Taking Back the Crown

by JCMorrigan

Mozenrath. Archibald Snatcher. Roman Torchwick. Mad Madam Mim. Yzma. The Huntsman. Wuya. Ayam Aghoul. Their mission: take over the multiverse, or look fabulous trying. Rated M for swearing, steamy implications and VERY bloody battles. Contains slash and het shipping.

150. No Day But Today

A/N: Your song for this one is "Bohemian Rhapsody." By Queen. If you don't actually know that song, then let's just say you're in good company this chapter…

...

A familiar scene. A room in the castle with dimmed lights over the bed. A nightstand laden with contraceptives, lubrications, and a strawberry rainbow cupcake. Two entirely different people, this time.

With Rapunzel's smaller hands clasped in his, Eugene Fitzherbert asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Eugene." She laughed nervously in response. "Stop asking. This was my idea, remember? Of course I want to do this!"

"Phew." He smiled. "Because I have wanted to do this with you for a while, Rapunzel. Look, I never used to be one of those people who bought into the idea that doing the do had to be all sappy and emotional…but with you. With you! It actually feels special, more than it did before. And I'm so glad to be able to share this with you."

Rapunzel's heart was fluttering. And she wasn't sure if it was in the good way. Because him saying that made her realize that somehow she'd been wishing he would call it off.

Yes, this had been her idea. After her reaction to the joke about aphrodisiacs, she'd realized that she needed to get over her reservations, her fear. After all, in the past, she'd conquered fears by running straight at them. Sex was a strange thing, a frightening thing, but the only way to get comfortable with it was to jump in – right?

Because she couldn't recall ever thinking it sounded like something she wanted, but obviously, it was something she'd have to do, now that she was committed to a man she had thought about marrying.

(But couldn't go through with that, either. He'd asked and she'd said no.)

All she hoped was that once they got started, it would get easier. At present, even though she knew basic logistics, she still wasn't sure how this would even work. (Sounded like it might hurt, too.)

"I'm…glad to share this with you, too," she said. Glad to finally be jumping this hurdle. Then, to make sure she wouldn't double back, she leaned forth and kissed Eugene hard.

His hands found her shoulders, and hers his waist. They leaned into each other, and oh, this, she could just stay like this forever without moving on, but she had to move on, she had to learn how, so when he said between kisses "If at any point, I do ANYTHING you aren't ready for, just say 'no'" –

She just replied "Mmhmm" –

And when he asked, "Can I move my hands a little lower?" in that teasing, sultry voice –

She said "Yes" –

And then he had his hand on her breast; "Is this all right?" –

And she was frightened, so frightened, but determined to push through, so she lied and said "Yes" again –

And at some point, before any clothing could even be removed, Rapunzel's nerves were crackling with terror. Something wasn't right. She didn't want this. They were doing everything right, she was being touched everywhere a woman should be touched in the foreplay moments, and she knew how a body was supposed to respond and hers was not.

Still, she tried to keep moving forward, hiding her trembling.

Her hair had other ideas.

In a bright golden glow, it erupted from her braid, hurtling forward to shove Eugene off the bed and halfway across the room. Rapunzel gasped at what she'd unwillingly done, then kept breathing at an elevated pace as her hair slowly curled back down into place around her on the mattress.

"Whoa!" Eugene laughed. "Getting a little rough there – "
"I can't," Rapunzel said, wide-eyed. "I can't DO this. That happened because I was trying to do this even though I just can't, and it just – that was just my fear – "

Eugene realized the gravity. "It's okay," he told her. "We don't have to do this tonight if you don't want to."

"No!" Her eyes were welling up. "Something's WRONG."

"Blondie, sometimes, people just aren't in the mood, or they aren't ready. It's not a big deal."

She somehow knew, deep down, that she never would be ready. And she didn't know how she could possibly say that in a way that would make him understand. What she opted for instead was "I need to be alone!"

"Okay," Eugene told her as he stood. "You – "

She had gathered her hair, barreling out the door.

"RAPUNZEL?" Eugene called after her. "THIS IS YOUR ROOM! I WAS JUST GOING TO LEAVE!"

She didn't care. She needed out and away.

Hadn't she done everything right? Didn't she love him? Did…this mean she didn't love him? It always came easy to people in love, didn't it?

Nowhere open on the residential floor, of course. So she moved to the first open lounge, scanning the couches.

If she could get in here so easily, anyone else could. Even if it was already getting late at night. She didn't want anyone to find her there, sobbing over sex.

Luckily, a supply closet was visible. Furthermore, it seemed to be in use storing beanbag chairs and other soft things, so Rapunzel was able to shut herself inside and collapse onto a welcoming, squishy pile that would allow her to relinquish control completely, not having to worry about standing or sitting.

There, curled in a nest of her own golden locks, she sobbed herself to sleep.

...

Hecate and Velma had been waiting in the room where Mozenrath had told them to arrive for a good five minutes, and he hadn't shown up.

"Whatever this 'big surprise' is," Hecate grumbled, "it better be good."

"It's Mozenrath," Velma replied. "Do you think he knows at all what a 'big surprise' is supposed to be? We'll be lucky if it's not toilet-cleaning duty for no reason."

There was a flash of blue. The sudden apparition of Mozenrath, as well as Demongo, who was taunting, "This 'big surprise' of yours had better be good, you know."

"WHAT – " Hecate flinched. "YOU?"

Velma gasped, a hand over her mouth.

Demongo bristled, eyes wide. "H…Hecate? Of course…you WOULD be alive in this realm, where Aku has not destroyed you…" His eyes slid toward Velma. "Wait. I knew you, too. The choir girl."

"You stopped existing in this timeline!" Hecate barked. "You – I never thought I'd SEE you again!"

"I barely got to know you in school!" Velma's eyes watered. "I thought I never would!"

The three exchanged glances, as if asking if what they were about to do was okay, if they could pull it off without ruining their respective reputations. Then they all committed to it, rushing to one another in a group hug.

"See?" Mozenrath said smugly. "This is you acknowledging how much I showed you up by dragging the one friend you couldn't have anymore back from an alternate reality where he'd lost you too. You're WELCOME."

"Thank you!" Velma sniffled. "I – I can't believe you would do something so kind and thoughtful!"

"IT WASN'T KIND OR THOUGHTFUL!" Mozenrath yelled. "I WANTED YOU THREE TO REALIZE I WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR YOU BEING ABLE TO REUNITE AT ALL!"

"Why, it seems the terrible Mozenrath has a heart," Demongo said slyly – and a little emotionally.

"NO, I DON'T!" Mozenrath yelled. "WELL, OKAY, I DO IN THE LITERAL SENSE, I'M NOT A HEARTLESS, BUT – YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN! I'M BRAGGING! LOOK WHAT I DID!"

"Don't worry," Hecate said slyly. "I won't tell anyone you were nice."

"I WASN'T – " Mozenrath turned on a heel. "AUGH! Fine. If you're going to make it out like I'm the good guy here, then I don't have to listen to it!" Another flash of blue and he was gone.

"What HAVE you been up to?" Velma urged. "You've had a whole eternity we never even saw!"

"And I have spent it collecting the souls of the unfortunate!" Demongo cackled. "Pressing them into slavery as my playthings! But then along came that precocious samurai, and I lost it all! Though it was really Aku that ruined me in the end. But I was able to get a leg up on him when the curtains closed! …With the help of a musical maestro who was also jilted by Aku, I might add."

"Ohhhh?" Hecate nudged Demongo with an elbow. "I know that tone! That's the boyfriend tone! You have a boyfriend!"

"A more stunning specimen than either of you will ever have, I'm sure," Demongo boasted. "Now tell me…am I correct? And what other news is there to speak of with the two of you?"

"We're actually both dating the same man," Velma explained. "He's an utter dreamboat. Rotting flesh, crooked teeth, the smell of the grave…"

"He's got a three-girlfriend arrangement," Hecate said with a smirk, "and the best part is we all get a little kick out of whatever it is the other two do to him…for better or for worse. Other than that, I've just been living up the daily grind in the Underworld. Or I was, anyway. After a few too many attempts to climb the corporate ladder – admittedly by skipping a few of the rungs – and failing, I decided to join up with people who UNDERSTOOD."

"Are you saying you went to work for Hades?" Demongo gaped. "I feel sorry for you just knowing that."

"Yeah, the perks weren't great," Hecate grumbled. "But it was the best match for my field. Only match for my field, actually. What can a goddess of magic do besides become the Goddess of Magic?"

"Meanwhile, I'm the Spider Queen now," Velma said casually. "Spiders near and far heed my siren song. Oh, and as it turns out, I spent centuries trying to get back at Grim for cheating me out of the Reaper gig, but the twist was that he actually never rigged the election and he DID deserve the job more than I, so that was a blow to the ego."

"My condolences," Demongo told her. "Though not too many condolences. I did vote for myself over either of you, after all."

Velma glowered. "Are you trying to start a school-level petty rivalry?" Then her expression softened again. "It's been too long since I've had a school-level petty rivalry!"

"Have you seen anyone else from those days?" Demongo asked. "Aku had them all obliterated where I come from. Oh, whatever happened to YOUR rival, Hecate? The one who led the cheer squad?"

"Nergal is still on my to-kill list," Hecate grumbled. "If I ever see him again."

"Luckily," Velma said, "the chances that he ended up in a plot-relevant hub of action are incredibly low, so we should have very little to worry about. But no…it seems that we're the only three from Tartarus High to have reunited."

"Well, we are the only three who matter," Demongo said proudly. "And now we may resume the acts of our glory days! Velma, you may sing for the masses and bring them to heel with the spell of your voice! Hecate, you may lead the cheers of your worshippers, demanding they spell your name as they cast offerings at your feet! And I…you know, it has been a while since I have truly put my theater skills to work."

"They do a lot of performing arts around here," Hecate assured. "Karaoke, improv…"

"Though now that I think about it, never a full-scale play," Velma realized. "We have a whole auditorium and we don't even use it because everyone tends to go for the atmosphere where you'd be sitting around tables with snacks and only half paying attention to anything."

"Then perhaps we should change that," Demongo suggested slyly.

"Maybe we should!" Hecate pounded a fist into a palm. "Between your acting and singing skills and my direction, we could put on a play that puts Emet-Selch's little memory show to shame!"

"Who now?" Demongo asked.

"You had to be there," Hecate realized.

"The most interesting part of the show was when an usher got set on fire," Velma added. "We would strive for better. That show didn't even have any proper musical numbers!"

"We NEED to have musical numbers!" Hecate urged. "That's one of the cornerstones of the WHAM ARMY and we barely use them properly!"

"Then it is done!" Demongo decided. "We shall take the reins of hosting the first full-scale theatrical production within WHAM ARMY premises!"

"But what show?" Velma asked. "There are so many out there that would cater to the target audience."

"You pick," Hecate told Demongo. "You're the biggest theater nerd. You have to have a musical in mind."

Demongo thought it over. "Well…as of late, I had developed quite a taste for RENT."

"RENT?" Velma repeated. "Isn't that the one about all those sappy hero types banding together to make it through a tragedy?"

"Oh, no, no!" Demongo assured. "There is tragedy, it is true, but the cast of characters are all horrendously selfish. A man commits himself and his roommate to poverty because of his pride and refusal to take what he considers handouts. A stripper infected with a venereal disease keeps trying to seduce a man she does not realize already has it. There is much exploitation of the poor and homeless, including a woman who rides the coattails of social justice for the purposes of increasing her fame in the performance arts circles, and the character who tragically dies is introduced with a musical number about how they murdered a dog with nothing but the power of music. Oh, and there's adultery as well."

"Oh, that sounds much better than what I thought it was about," Velma said.

"Shouldn't have too hard of a time rounding up a cast for a thing like that," Hecate remarked. "What do you say? Auditions in the karaoke room at, say…oh, whatever time it is that we manage to hang up all the flyers about it?"

"I think that sounds like an excellent idea!" Demongo chirped.

...

Rapunzel was awoken by the sound of muffled dance music.

She realized with horror that she'd spent the night and an undetermined portion of the morning asleep in a supply closet on top of a pile of beanbags. Because she hadn't been able to do something as simple as participate in one night of sex with the one person she should've been able to do that with. And now someone was playing Step In Time Syncopation in the other room.

To say this was awkward was putting it mildly.

Rapunzel heavily considered staying put until whoever was out there was finished with their game. Truth be told, she didn't have much of a drive to face society at all after the prior night. It seemed so shameful.

But eventually, she had to admit the best thing to do was come out of the closet.

She opened the door to see Ventus and Papyrus on a pair of dance pads, moving in synchrony to a song with a strong beat. Behind them, Stork reclined on a couch, reading a book and occasionally glancing up to see who was in the lead.

"Rapunzel?" Ven greeted without skipping a beat.

"UM…WHY WERE YOU IN THE BEANBAG CLOSET?" Papyrus asked.

"Well, I…um…" Rapunzel stumbled for the words. "It's been a weird night."

"WAIT A MINUTE," Papyrus realized. "THE SKIN AROUND YOUR EYES IS VERY IRRITATED-LOOKING. THAT MEANS SOMETHING IN HUMANS AND I CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT."

"You've been crying!" Ven realized.

There was a thud as Stork's book hit the floor. He froze, trying to look inconspicuous before saying, "I'm concerned is all. As anyone would be."

"Look, guys, I – I don't wanna talk about it," Rapunzel sighed.

"WOULD YOU WANT TO ENTER OUR DANCE TOURNAMENT?" Papyrus asked. "WHICHEVER ONE OF US WINS – AND IT'S LOOKING LIKE VEN – PLAYS STORK NEXT. BUT MAYBE WE SHOULD MAKE YOU TWO FACE OFF AND DO WINNER VERSUS WINNER!"

"I've already made them agree to disinfecting the dance pads between matches," Stork assured, "so there's nothing to worry about in terms of contaminants."

Instantly, levity filled Rapunzel. "Honestly? That sounds like exactly what I need. Let's do it!"

She settled in on the couch beside Stork, who had opted to cease reading so he could watch the match play out. As predicted, Ven won, and both mats were sprayed down with disinfectant before Rapunzel and Stork stepped up to the plate.

It almost worked to get Rapunzel's mind off things completely. She liked the beat of the song, the quick movements required of her filled her with adrenaline, and she rather liked peeking one pad over to see that Stork was a better dancer than he let on, with his quick reflexes and sharp movements. She flowed like a ballerina as he stamped like a warrior. Ven and Papyrus cheered them both on until the final score came in and Rapunzel was the victor by a mere ten points.

"YESSSSS!" She threw up her hands. "VICTORY IS MINE!" Then she turned to Stork, putting out her hand. "Good game!"

He looked at her hand with trepidation.

"No need to touch it," she told him. "It's just symbolic."

"No…I trust you're clean." Stork took her hand and shook it, not wanting anyone to know that he would've done so even if Rapunzel had been the host for twenty malignant parasites.

They fell back onto the couch beside Ven and Papyrus to catch their breaths before the winners' match. As the music faded, so did the good mood Rapunzel had been using to cover up her anguish. It was eating her alive, and she wasn't sure she could hold out emotionally to the next match. Especially now that she had built up trust with these three.

So she went for it: "Can I…can I ask you guys about something kinda…private? Actually, Ven might wanna leave the room for this."

"YOU MAY ABSOLUTELY SPEAK YOUR MIND!" Papyrus told her. "THOUGH I DON'T SEE WHY YOU'RE EXCLUDING VEN."

"Well, he's…he's a bit younger," Rapunzel said. "Though, okay, not THAT young, so – I don't know – "

Stork figured it out. "Is this sex-related?"

Rapunzel forced herself to admit "Yyyyyeeeeees?" Then the floodgates opened: "Okay, now that I said it, I TOTALLY get how it's not a thing you just talk about, and it's probably gross and I'm sorry and I'll just stop talking now – "

"IT SEEMS TO BE SOMETHING THAT IS CAUSING YOU A LOT OF DISTRESS," Papyrus said. "I MAY NOT KNOW MUCH ABOUT THE SUBJECT, BUT I DO KNOW THAT AS A FRIEND, I AM READY TO LISTEN TO ANY CONCERNS ANOTHER FRIEND HAS!"

"I wanna help, if I can," Ven said. "Sure, it's kinda gross to talk about, but I still wanna try."

"You have my oath of silence that whatever you say, do, or ask here will NEVER leave this room," Stork said. "Ven, Papyrus, agree to the oath."

"WE SWEAR!" Ven and Papyrus said as one.

"Okay." Rapunzel's eyes went wide as she realized she now had to figure out how to actually say what had happened. "Um. So. Last night…Eugene and I were about to do it for the first time…and it was my idea…because I've been really, REALLY nervous about it and I figured the best way to get over the fear was just to dive in…but then we started kissing and – and TOUCHING – and I just got too scared, and I KNOW what was supposed to happen physically to get things going but it wasn't, and then I was too stubborn to stop so my hair just popped loose and threw Eugene across the room. And the worst part is that I just – is it wrong of me to just WANT a relationship where I don't have to do that kind of thing? Where we'd just have romantic boat rides and make crafts together and dance and bake brownies and – and why can't I do something that EVERYONE has to do if they want a real relationship?" She was crying again. Ashamed. Now of the prior night's events and of having to tell this to other people.

After a long pause, Ven said, "Actually…I'm like that, too."

"…Really?" Rapunzel said softly.

"AS AM I," Papyrus said, "BUT OF COURSE, THAT COMES WITH THE TERRITORY OF NOT HAVING THE, ERM, BODY PARTS ASSOCIATED WITH THAT SORT OF THING."

"Which is kinda why we work so well," Ven said. "We just…do the fun stuff, like you mentioned."

"If you ask me," Stork brought up, "I've never been a fan of the idea either. Do you have ANY IDEA how many germs are passed between swapping bodily fluids like that? My ideal partner would also not bother me about the idea any more than is completely necessary. Which, unfortunately, it seems like it has to be in order for anyone to get anywhere."

"Yeah," Ven agreed. "It's weird. It makes me feel like something's…wrong with me."

"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ANY OF YOU!" Papyrus urged. "BY SKELETON STANDARDS, YOU ARE ALL VERY NORMAL!"

"But by human and Merb standards," Rapunzel countered, "that's…not exactly true."

Stork flinched. "You know, this is the first time it's sinking in. I have little to no desire to actually engage in…you-know-what." His eyes widened. "No desire to procreate, and it just…" He shuddered, with his whole body. "Yeesh, no. But that's not normal, is it? I'm not normal. This goes beyond my typical hypochondria, doesn't it?"

"Well, if all three of us – or four of us – are like this," Rapunzel suggested, "then we can't ALL have something wrong with us, can we? This just has to mean we're a kind of person that exists and just doesn't get talked about! That's all! It's just the way we are! And maybe it's even something we can get over! Well, except Ven, you're lucky and you don't have to."

"I am lucky," Ven agreed.

"HE IS INDEED," Papyrus concurred.

"It's probably nothing to worry about," Rapunzel said. "But honestly, thanks for talking to me about this. It's just good to know I'm not alone, really."

"But everyone, everywhere uses it as a key component of every non-skeletal biological-organism culture that has ever existed," Stork panted, starting to fidget. "For us to be OUTLIERS of that culture – "

Rapunzel put a hand softly on his shoulder; "Would it help if Ven and I did the championship match? Or do we need to do something more intensive to get your mind off this?"

"…Fire up the song," Stork told her. "Destroy him. I'm cheering for you."

Rapunzel and Ven agreed to take the mats once more, selecting a high-rated song to dance to. The beat kicked in, and the directions blinked across the screen, beginning a fast-paced match.

It was looking like a close competition. But then the lyrics kicked in. The song happened to be utterly laden with innuendo and suggestiveness, reminding them of the very looming anomaly they still hadn't figured out yet.

Rapunzel stopped in her tracks. "We're broken," she said in horror.

"Something's wrong with us," Ven said as he also halted.

"For all we know," Stork said, "it's the first sign of a terminal illness that's going to bring us down fairly early in our lives."

"NOW, HOLD ON!" Papyrus broke in. "SINCE THIS IS CAUSING US ALL SUCH DISTRESS, AND OBVIOUSLY SOME OF US WILL NEED PRACTICAL SOLUTIONS TO THIS CONUNDRUM, I SAY WE FIGHT IT WITH THE MOST POWERFUL WEAPON KNOWN TO MAN OR MONSTER: INFORMATION!"

That got Ven to smile as he joked, "I'm pretty sure the Keyblade is the most powerful weapon known to man or monster."

"WELL, IF YOU REMEMBER, A PLASTIC TOY KNIFE CAN KILL ME AS EASILY AS A KEYBLADE," Papyrus brought up, "SO I DON'T HAVE A GREAT FRAME OF REFERENCE."

"But he does have a point," Stork realized. "If we can find out WHAT makes us all repulsed by the idea of…you know, then we can figure out the right workarounds. Of course, that's presuming we're not the first three cases in existence and nobody has ever documented this sort of thing before…which is always a possibility…"

"But we won't know until we investigate," Rapunzel decided. "Let's go find out. Before we ransack the library over a topic we don't even know exists, is there anyone who we not only trust to have a sensitive conversation but also would probably have enough general knowledge to be able to answer the question?"

"…Actually," Ven realized, "I think I know who we should ask."

...

A stage was set and a judges' table positioned before it in the karaoke room. Demongo, Hecate, and Velma were positioned at the table, ready to assess the audition of every aspiring actor in the WHAM ARMY who wanted a part in RENT.

There were a few stipulations. Auditioners had to demonstrate their skills in singing, dancing, or acting. Also, Demongo was already slated to be Roger Davis, and Velma was to be Mimi Márquez, and there was nothing anyone could do to change this.

As lead director, Hecate directed the flow. She tapped a clipboard with the end of a pen; "Quentin Beck?"

Knowing it was his time to shine, Quentin marched up onto the stage, with Montana looming just off stage's edge to watch.

"All right," Hecate said. "Impress us."

"If you say so," Quentin replied with a smirk. After he cleared his throat, he bowed his head, then began to sing in a high-pitched tone; "It's true you sold your guitar and bought a car?" He swapped to a deeper-sounding voice: "It's true. I'm leaving now for Santa Fe. It's true you're with this yuppie scum?" Then even deeper: "You said you'd never speak to him again – " Higher: "Not now!"

Until he'd performed the entirety of "Goodbye Love" by swapping through the entirety of the main cast (sans Angel). After his final melodramatic "Hello…diseeeaaaase," he then asked the judging panel, "Do you need to see any more?"

"That was quite impressive," Demongo complimented. "It seems you could in fact play any role in the show."

"Then I'll take Mark Cohen," Quentin said.

"Doesn't work like that," Hecate replied. "Cast list comes out after the auditions are all evaluated."

Then Montana was looming over the table, and for a moment, in the presence of the Enforcer and the shadow he cast, Demongo, Hecate, and Velma temporarily forgot that they were primal Chthonic entities. "He said what part he wanted," Montana stated. "An' you said he could have it. I wouldn't double back if I were you."

After the three judges exchanged quick, worried glances, Velma stammered, "But of COURSE he's a perfect Mark Cohen! Why would we say otherwise?"

"Good." Quentin hopped off the stage, walking around to pull a chair up to the judges' table. "Now, let's see what the rest of these wannabes can do to follow THAT up."

"No one said you could sit in on the casting!" Hecate barked as he reclined.

"I said," Montana growled, and once again, nobody really wanted to mess with him. So Quentin got to stay and help with the judging, and Montana sat on his other side in case his judgments were needed as well.

"Who's up next?" Quentin swiped up the audition signup list. "Archibald Snatcher? Well, this out to be good."

Snatcher gave a graceful bow atop the stage. "Sirs and madams," he greeted. "I'm certain the performance I'm about to give will MORE than meet expectations."

Montana took over the remote and the list of approved BGM that each auditioner had requested, and so cued in a metal song with heavy, deep violin chords that melted into playful guitar riffs.

"A laaaaa-dy with a violin," Snatcher trilled in the light falsetto of Frou Frou, "playing to the seals." A string of high, hypnotic notes. "Hearken to the sound o-o-o-of calling!" Another operatic vocalization before he dropped hard into baritone: "Who tied my hands to the wheel? The zodiac turns over me!"

"Showoff," Quentin grumbled.

"You did the exact same thing, with multiple voices," Demongo reminded him.

"Exactly," Quentin huffed. "And he's only doing TWO. I did SIX."

After the song faded out with several operatic highs that faded into enigmatic wails, Snatcher let the rest of the music play out and fired a smirk off at the judges. "For your consideration, of course." (All while Roman Torchwick stood just offstage applauding and whooping like mad.)

"Okay, good." Hecate looked through a pile of papers. "Though truth be told, we already had you down as a shoo-in for Angel Dumott-Schunard."

"Wha – " Snatcher flinched. "Then what was the whole point of making me go through audition, then?"

"Because we knew you'd put on a good show," Velma informed him.

"It wasn't better than MINE!" Quentin urged. "I swear, this is just nepotism in action!"

"More just playin' favorites than real nepotism," Montana replied, "but you're right. Ain't fair."

"Riiiiight," Hecate said. "So, Quentin. Tell me: who in the WHAM ARMY – excluding yourself; you're Mark Cohen – could play Angel better?"

Quentin set out to answer. Then realized he didn't have one. "Fine. You win."

"Then what about the boyfriend?" Montana asked. "Seems like a package deal. You get one, you get the other."

"Whoaaaa nononono," Hecate protested. "Or do you not know? Roman DOES NOT sing."

"Awww, c'mon, give me some credit!" Roman urged. "Sure, I only came here to strongarm you into a position working the lighting, but that doesn't mean I am without talent!"

"You know," Velma said, "I've only ever heard other people say that Roman shouldn't sing. I've never heard him try. Maybe it's an exaggeration?"

"Why don't we find out?" Demongo suggested. "Impress us."

"Okay." Roman shrugged before taking center stage. And he didn't have to get any further than one measure of "It's a long, long way to Ba Sing Se, but the girls in the city, they look so pretty!" before all five of the judges were clutching their ears and begging him to stop.

"This is almost better than a standing ovation," Roman laughed. "Talent or no, you have to admit I get people talking."

"It's not SO horrendous," Snatcher absolutely lied. "Overreacting, they are."

"Ragdoll!" Hecate called out.

With a cartwheel that folded them into a perfect circle, Ragdoll rolled onstage. "I do want to begin by thanking you all for giving me this golden opportunity," they said with a wide grin.

"I don't like this," Montana muttered.

"Let's see what they have to offer," Quentin muttered back.

Ragdoll gave a clear of the throat. Then began: "According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black, yellow, black, yellow, black, yellow, black! Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little!" They then began swapping out the pitch of their voice. "Barry! Breakfast is ready! Coming! Hang on a second! Hello! Barry? Adam? Can you believe this is happening?"

Montana and Roman ended up having to physically escort Ragdoll off the stage before everyone was subjected to the entire Bee Movie.

Bushroot dropped to one knee; "EVER SINCE WE MET, I ONLY SHOOT UP WITH YOUR PERFUME! IT'S THE ONLY THING THAT MAKES ME FEEL AS GOOD AS YOU DO! EVER SINCE WE MET, I'VE GOT JUST ONE REGRET TO LIVE THROUGH, AND THAT ONE REGRET IS YOU! AND THAT ONE REGRET IS YOOOOUUUUU!"

To this, he received thunderous applause, and Quentin rose, crying out, "STUPENDOUS! I can see it now: you perform before the hungry crowd, and they applaud fervently! They – "

"Wait, CROWD?" Bushroot protested. "B-b-b-but I have stage fright!"

"Honey," Hecate sighed, "this is a musical. You're auditioning…for a musical."

"I may not have thought this one through," Bushroot admitted.

Quentin made a dramatic slash on the paper before him.

Irmaplotz started off singing a jaunty pop number, and she had everyone bopping their heads along with her. However, when she hit the chorus and declared "DOOOON'T YOU TOUCH MY BOYFRIEND! HE'S NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND! HE'S MINE!", her voice gained a forceful amount of rasp, her eyes shone luminous, and small green flames flickered up off her aura. "DOOOON'T YOU TOUCH MY BOYFRIEND!" she threatened the entire panel. "HE'S NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND! HE'S MINE!"

"I'm scared," Velma whimpered.

Lady Caine had come to the stage with a soulful emo ballad, which she performed decently enough – until the bridge ("If I fall…down"), when she dropped on a knee and screamed melodiously into the microphone, the perfect picture of anguish.

"Oh, now THAT'S good," Hecate remarked.

"It reminds me of the feeling of euphoria you get when you watch someone tragically lose their loved one by your hand," Demongo said.

"I'm feeling the daddy issues here," Velma said, "but that isn't a bad thing."

Melanie Malachite stood onstage with a tiny ukulele that she strummed rather off-key. In the least enthusiastic voice possible, "Two lovers forbidden from one another. A war divides their people, and a mountain divides them apart. Built a path to be together." She cleared her throat; "There's like some stuff in the middle I don't remember, and then…" Still in the most flat, dry voice anyone could use to sing, she continued: "Secret tunnel. Secret tunnel. Through the mountains. Secret, secret, secret, secret tunnel."

Quentin began waving his hand to shoo her offstage; "NEXT!"

"I, like, didn't even get to the part where everyone dies," Melanie huffed as she stalked offstage.

"What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch?" Felix recited dramatically. "I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy SEALS, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Qaeda, and I have over three hundred confirmed kills. I am trained in guerilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words – "

"NEXT!" Quentin yelled.

Tsumugi Shirogane leapt from foot to foot, energetically swooping a fist in the air as she belted, "We are fighting dreamers! Takami wo mezashite! Fighting dreamers! Narifuri kamawazu! Fighting dreamers! Shinjiru ga mama ni! Oli oli oli oh, just go my way!"

"Okay, this one's cheating," Hecate muttered. "She's a ROBOT. Of course she has autotune!"

"I do like the energy, though," Demongo said.

"And if you can grandfather Snatcher into a part," Quentin muttered, "then I can give the only person in this whole warship who knows the production industry a role."

"I'm not sure that's how it works," Velma remarked, "but I'd rather not be intimidated by Montana again, so I'll go with it."

A host of colorful laser lights danced around the stage as Drakken, Monkey Fist, Duff Killigan, and Gill Moss performed synchronized choreography and harmonizing in perfect union; "LET'S NOT ANALYZE WHAT I SAID! I DON'T WANNA BE A COMPLEX BOY!"

Shego was also supposed to be part of this particular troupe, but was making her disregard known by just standing off to the side with her arms folded, neither singing nor dancing.

"I can't tell if you're serious when you are so delirious!" the other four went on. "Are you just playing me, baby? Is that a yes, no, or maybe?"

"Okay, STOP." Quentin put up a hand. "This legally qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment."

"And all YOU have to do is WATCH it," Shego snorted.

"Yes, but ye dunno how low the bar's set!" Duff protested. "Compared to that Senior Junior Senior Senior lad, we sound like a host of angels!"

"Indubidably," Monty agreed.

Gill just snorted; "I KNEW this was gonna be stupid." And he stormed offstage, followed immediately by Shego.

Deymos brought with him the return of the meme everyone thought had died: "It's a cruel, cruel world, all you little boys and girls, and the big nasty people want to have you for their supper!" His fingers danced on the chords, and little splashes of water surrounded his feet for effect. "But if you follow me, you can all be free! Free! You can all be free!"

"Yeah, nooooo," Hecate cut him off. "We're not letting you in on this."

"Why?" Deymos spat. "Because my time double is a TRAITOR? How many times do I have to tell you I'm different?"

"It has nothing to do with that," Hecate told him, "and everything to do with the fact that you're not going to show up for half the rehearsals."

"…Okay, true," Deymos admitted. "I can see where you're coming from there."

Hecate pointed to the door; "OFF."

Mim recited a skit as well, that of a lawyer reading the division of a will. "To my overly emotional sister Jenny," she said before giving a wail and switching voices; "Jenny, darling, he's talking about us!" She returned to the first voice; "Who grubbed with her husband Hank, grubbed for everything they could get from me and then cried crocodile tears when I needed sympathy." A soft "What?" Then: "To Jenny, I leave a boot to the head."

At which point she literally conjured a rubber boot and hurled it to smack Velma in the face.

"WHY?" Velma shrieked.

"And another boot to her wimpy husband, Hank!" Mim declared.

A second boot bounced off Quentin's scalp.

This excuse to throw boots at people carried out to its natural conclusion.

Now, while most of this had been going on, there were two other spectators who had mostly kept to themselves, in the far back of the room. Discord had decided to pop in on the auditions, since obviously they would make for one chaotic presentation. And, since Peepers was right there in his living room –

(One night on the guest bed turned into two, and maybe three, but surely they weren't that lonely, right? This would end eventually.)

Discord had invited him along. Peepers wasn't sure exactly why he'd accepted. Maybe the sheer knowledge that watching the WHAM ARMY make fools of themselves onstage would give him an excuse to complain and then feel superior to whatever he was complaining about. Whatever the case, he and Discord sat side-by-side, with the latter snacking out of an industrial-size bag of rubber bands.

"You know," Peepers remarked after ducking a stray boot, "there's really a lot more talent here than I expected."

"But only just enough that I've still had a GREAT amount of fun here!" Discord cackled. Then, he did perhaps the worst thing a Discord can do: he got an idea. "Now, Peepers, is it just me or do I sense that you have a bit of theatricality about you?"

"It's just you," Peepers said flatly.

"No, I think you were born for the stage," Discord mused. "Why, you should go up there and audition for a role! You might actually get main-cast billing!"

"Discord, I'm not auditioning for a musical," Peepers sighed. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, but it's SOMETHING."

"Have I not graciously opened my door to you these past couple days?" Discord countered. "I'm just thinking of things that can make your healing process more efficient. Such as getting involved in community projects like RENT."

That wasn't true at all. He just wanted Peepers to get up on that stage and start singing so at the crucial moment, the climax of the song, Discord could turn his voice high-pitched as though Peepers had inhaled a gallon of helium. It played out to be a very funny moment in his head, and he wanted to see if it would make him laugh in practice.

"Yeah," Peepers mused. "Yeah, you know what? You're still up to something, but you're right. All my life, I've played second banana! Well, guess what? Now it's MY time to take a spotlight! Watch out, world! All eyes on ME!"

He got in line and Discord chuckled, readying his prank.

The last person in line before Peepers had gotten there was Garfield Lynns, who had to fight a degree of uncertainty before getting up on that stage with a deep breath. "Hi," he greeted. "So most of you know me as more of a science guy, but I used to be kind of a theater nerd back in school. Well, I tried to be, anyway. There was just one little problem: I can't dance. Dunno why. Just never been good at it. So for four years of high school I was relegated to minor chorus parts, which is JUST the dancing, for whatever sense that makes."

"Yes, yes." Quentin waved it off. "And now you're coming here to try and rebuild your confidence by taking the role denied to you all those years. You realize I only cast TRUE TALENT, right?"

"You're not the only one casting this show!" Hecate reminded him. "But also, Garfield, I'm expecting things to look good here. Don't think you can get past me with a sob story. Velma's the only one you might've been able to get past with a sob story, and she's being overruled."

"Darn it," Velma huffed.

Montana examined the backup music document. "You don't got a song picked."

"Yeah, well," Garfield said, "since I was going for a whole comeback thing, I wanted this to be a surprise." He whirled, pointing to Ragdoll, who was at the ready beside a speaker. "HIT IT."

Disco violins filled the air. Garfield tapped his toe until his cue came in for the opening chorus, at which point he grabbed the microphone, leaned back, and bellowed, "BUUUURN, BABY, BURN! BUUUURN, BABY BURN!"

As he transitioned to the first verse, he started to dance. And it was rather horrible. As he sang out, "To my surprise! A hundred stories high! There's people getting loose, getting down on the roof!", he simply flailed. There was no coordination and hardly a sense of rhythm.

But the more he went on, the less it mattered. Watching Garfield sing, it was near impossible to not feel a sense of levity. And though he wasn't coordinated, he was energetic. He was passionate. It looked silly, but in a surprisingly good way.

Beholding the sight made Peepers more inspired to stick to his own decision. He clenched a fist, vowing mentally to give his all the way Garfield was giving his.

With a final cry of "DISCO INFERNO!", Garfield dropped to his knees. Which was followed by him seething "OW." Then he looked out, panting, to the judges' panel.

Montana, Quentin, Demongo, Hecate, and Velma were at first not quite sure what to say. Then Quentin started: "That…was horrible. But I couldn't bring myself to yell 'next.'"

"It was infectious!" Velma chirped.

"I was feeling it," Hecate admitted.

"We may have to make a special consideration in his case," Demongo suggested to the other judges.

"I mean, this is a WHAM ARMY production through an' through," Montana reminded them all. "We gotta show off what we're made of, an' he does that."

"Also, can we circle back to the sob story now?" Velma ventured. "Because I still want to give him that pity role, but it's less piteous now."

"We gotta think on this one," Hecate told him.

Garfield flashed a thumbs-up and a wink. "Knew it." Then he hopped down off the stage, where Ragdoll was waiting to hug him and spin him in a congratulatory fashion.

"That seems to conclude our list," Demongo remarked.

"NOT JUST YET!" Peepers leapt onto the stage, pointing to the judges. "I'M taking a stand in this show! And I think you'll like what you're gonna hear!"

Montana, Quentin, Demongo, Hecate, and Velma exchanged confused glances. Then Quentin ventured, "…Go on."

Peepers cleared his throat loudly. He'd have to go this one acapella, given the impromptu decision. He knew exactly which song he wanted, the one bubbling up inside, and didn't stop to think too hard about why.

"Guess it was not meant to be," he sang softly. "But it's not as bad as it seems. It only burns when I breathe…"

Discord snickered to himself, waiting to deploy the prank.

"You saw the way that I fell," Peepers continued. "But I'm better off by myself. That's the tale I like to tell…"

Discord placed the pads of his fingers together, ready to snap.

Then Peepers broke into the first chorus, his voice soaring: "But IIIIIIT'S NOT THAT EASY for me to say goodbye! When EEEVERYTHING in me wants you back in my life!"

The snap was never completed. Discord slowly lowered his hand.

"Can't let you gooooooo…" Peepers sang soulfully. "It feels like the dawn of the dead. Like bombs going off in my head…"

Discord watched him continue to sing. He just couldn't go through with it, not now that he was hearing the song chosen. And all the soul his friend was putting into it.

By the final chorus, a wail of "IIIIT'S NOT THAT EASY! FOR ME TO SAY! GOOD! BYE!", Discord realized his eyes were misting.

"WHEN EEEEEEVERYTHING IN ME WANTS YOU BACK IN! MY! LIFE!" Peepers belted. "CAN'T LET YOU GOOOOOO! CAN'T LET YOU GOOOOOOO! CAN'T LET YOU GOOOOOO! CAN'T LET YOU GOOOOOOOO!"

And all five of the judges were slack-jawed.

Finally, he tapered off his vocalizations. When had his chest become so heavy? "Ahem," he said, straightening up. "I'm sure that was satisfactory."

"I think you just made everyone in this room depressed," Demongo observed. "Which is a good thing if we're talking about RENT."

"All right!" Hecate slammed down the clipboard. "We'll have a huddle, and then have the official cast list announced."

There was much whispering and a little bickering. Then Demongo got onstage to announce the results, only for Quentin to overtake him, snatching the microphone.

"Anyone not mentioned here will be under consideration for chorus," Quentin announced. "As for the main-billing roles! I'll be Mark Cohen, of course. Demongo is Roger Davis, and Velma Green is Mimi Márquez. And, of course, there's no one better for Angel Dumott-Schunard than our own Archibald Snatcher."

"A question," Snatcher broke in. "For the sake of the character. I've seen the film of this once, but it wasn't quite clear…Ms. Dumott-Schunard. Does she wear outfits of the women's persuasion the way I do or the way Miss Neopolitan does?"

"It's never clear in the stage version either," Quentin clarified. "Just do what you want."

"I see then," Snatcher muttered.

"As for the rest!" Quentin announced. "Tom Collins will be played by our resident underdog, Garfield Lynns. You're still an awful dancer, but we'll have everyone else make you look good. Maureen Johnson is to be played by our own Ermentrud Caine."

"Okay, WHO leaked my first name?" Lady Caine barked amid snickers.

"Joanne Jefferson, we're giving to Tsumugi Shirogane," Quentin said. "And finally, Benny Coffin has to go to Commander Peepers."

"Now, wait just a second!" Mim barked. "I didn't hear my name there!"

"Because WE DIDN'T CAST YOU," Quentin replied.

"I demand a leading role THIS INSTANT!" Mim yelled.

"That's not how it works," Quentin answered back.

A barrage of lightning that struck near where he was standing, each bolt missing him by mere hairs, changed his mind.

"CAINE'S OUT!" he screamed. "MIM'S MAUREEN!"

"WHAT?" Lady Caine yelled. "ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?"

"If it's any consolation, you can be an understudy," Quentin told her. "Meaning in the unlikely event that SOMETHING SHOULD HAPPEN THAT MIM CAN'T PLAY HER ROLE, then you will."

"I know a sabotage suggestion when I hear it," Mim told him, "but I'm going to let it slide because I look forward to seeing how you try and remove me from the game!"

"Oh, and also, Roman is tech crew ONLY," Quentin urged. "You are not to get NEAR my stage unless you're handling a light fixture or a set piece."

"Like I said," Roman replied smugly. "I got you to remember. I've gone down in infamy. And that's really what I came to accomplish here."

"Rehearsal begins in two hours," Quentin declared. "In the ACTUAL auditorium, not this knockoff party room. Punctuality matters."

He stalked offstage, and Demongo took that opportunity to remind everyone, "This isn't his show." Then the demon turned to flit out alongside Quentin.

When Quentin and Demongo exited into the hall outside the karaoke room, leaving everyone else to gossip, they were faced with a gobsmacked Mozenrath.

"I left you alone how long?" Mozenrath said, bewildered. "And you started a full-scale musical production."

"I'm not sure why you're surprised," Quentin told him.

"In that, we agree," Demongo affirmed.

Mozenrath just shook his head and turned away, muttering.

...

The sun glittered off all the domes of Crystarium as Rapunzel, Stork, Ven, and Papyrus made their way to the grand Crystal Tower where spheres were manufactured for the whole kingdom.

There was a jingle, and Rapunzel retrieved her Gummiphone. "Uh, hi?"

"Rapunzel!" Eugene answered. "Look, I know you said you needed space, and if you still do, then that's great, but after you disappeared for what's going on twelve hours, I needed to make sure that you were, y'know…okay."

She forced a smile. "I'm fine," she answered.

"You sure about that?" Eugene posed. "Because that didn't sound fine."

Rapunzel sighed. "I WILL be fine. I'm…I'm looking for some answers to important questions. But trust me, I'm not in danger. I just…" She was flushing. "I need a little more time."

"Okay," Eugene replied. "So long as you promise you're not in any trouble and you're taking care of yourself."

"I am," Rapunzel said hurriedly. "Okay, thanks, bye!" Then off went the phone. She sighed. "This is awful."

"Hey." Ven put a hand on her shoulder. "We're almost there. He'll have an answer for us. I know it."

At the gates of the Crystal Tower, a guard stopped the quartet. "State your business," he said.

"We're friends of Merlin," Rapunzel said. "We heard he was here, and we'd like to meet up with him."

"The old man?" the guard replied. "Normally, I'd say no, but the thing is, he told me there was about a seventy percent chance he'd have visitors today, with a high likelihood of them being at least two people who match your description. He said a green one and a bony guy, anyway. He some kind of seer?"

"TIME TRAVELER, ACTUALLY," Papyrus said. "HE MUST HAVE HAD A VAGUE IDEA OF US SHOWING UP IN THIS TIMELINE."

"Maybe he already knows what we're about to ask!" Ven realized.

"You know that's not a good thing, right?" Stork posed. "It means he KNOWS."

"WELL, MAYBE NOT," Papyrus said. "IT DEPENDS ON THE TIMELINE, AFTER ALL."

"This is getting confusing," the guard sighed. "Just head on up. He and the girl should be somewhere on the fourteenth floor."

"Thank you!" Rapunzel said as she barreled past, with Ven, Stork, and Papyrus in hot pursuit.

The guard shook his head. "Wizards."

A set of spiral stairs led the quartet through many floors with crystalline-blue walls. On floor fourteen, they found Merlin and Piper in a laboratory; Piper was using a device to focus light on a set of rainbow crystals.

"Ah, as I had thought!" Merlin said once Rapunzel, Stork, Ven, and Papyrus had all entered.

"You know why we're here?" Ven asked.

"No," Merlin admitted. "Only that you might be coming. I'm glad to help with whatever you wish at any rate."

"Hey, guys!" Piper looked up from her work. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh. Uh. Piper." Stork cringed. "We're…uh…we just had a question."

"A question?" Piper repeated. "Wait, wait! Don't tell me! I've just been putting the finishing touches on a set of divination crystals, and I wanna see how well they work!"

"Piper, my dear," Merlin warned, "it might not be prudent to – "

Piper had already summoned her rainbow of small stones to hover in the air, turning a fast circle, becoming a ring of rainbow light. Then four crystals shot out, hovering over each of the visitors' heads. Over Stork, black. Over Ven, gray. Over Papyrus, white. Over Rapunzel, purple.

"Huh," Piper remarked. "That's weird. I don't know what those colors mean."

"I do," Merlin realized. "Piper, it seems this may need to be a private conversation. I trust you can find your way around the tower now without supervision?"

"I know it like the back of my hand!" Piper proclaimed. She put up said hand, and the four crystals flew back into it.

"Now, let's go somewhere a little more secluded," Merlin said. "Just to be safe."

With a wave of his wand and a rush of sparkles, he, Rapunzel, Stork, Papyrus, and Ven were all in a completely different room, one that held racks of weapons inset with crystals of bright colors.

"Now, then!" Merlin said. "It seems the four of you have some questions about asexuality!"

There was a silence. Then Rapunzel repeated, "A…sexuality?"

"Yes, asexualty!" Merlin affirmed. "You do know the word, correct?"

Four very blank and confused looks answered that question.

"Oh my," Merlin said. "Well, perhaps you'd better begin from the top."

"Well, it's…" Rapunzel fiddled with a loose lock of hair. "It's kinda awkward, but we…we wanted to know…"

"None of us are interested in swapping bodily fluids while consummating romance," Stork blurted. "Which really only makes sense for Papyrus."

"Why, that's exactly what 'asexuality' means!" Merlin informed them. "Did you truly not know for this long? Seeing as it seems to be what you are, it's high time you learned!"

"Tell us!" Ven urged.

"You are aware of how some desire to engage in that sort of intimacy with those of the same gender," Merlin questioned, "and some with the opposite, and of course allowances made for everything in between?"

Four nods.

"And yet there are some who do not desire it with anyone," Merlin said. "A partial or total lack of arousal."

"It's not something…wrong?" Rapunzel asked.

"Of course not, my dear girl!" Merlin assured.

"But we still want to, y'know, date people," Ven added.

"Some do, and some don't," Merlin went on. "There are all sorts, you know. After all, variety is what comprises existence." He broke into a little song: "Night and day, straight and gay, that's what makes the world go 'round! Hit and miss, trans and cis, that's what makes the world go 'round! For all that's gauche, there is a grace, and for every allosexual, there's an ace!" Then he chuckled to himself. "Which isn't to say any of those things is a complete binary either. We only truly start to understand how the world – or worlds – operate until we realize just how much diversity there is, how many possibilities there are that we need to keep our minds open to! And when you think of it that way, it seems ridiculous that every single romance would need to be 'consummated,' doesn't it?"

"That…makes sense," Rapunzel realized. "A lot of sense. So I'm just this way?"

"Indeed you are," Merlin told her, "and you should be proud of it."

"But is there any way to…get over it?" Rapunzel asked.

"There is no way to change your orientation," Merlin told her. "Now, there are those asexuals who engage in physical intimacy for a variety of reasons. But the first and foremost reason needs to be your own desire to partake in the act, not that of pleasing anyone else."

"Okay, but you don't understand," Rapunzel babbled. "If I don't – if I can't – I'm afraid to, but I NEED to, because Eugene has been waiting forever to do this with me."

Merlin sighed. "I am afraid that some situations are quite difficult. What you want and what he wants may not be the same. Only communication can bridge the divide and tell you what you need to do next."

"So…you're saying that this…might not be something we can work out," Rapunzel said solemnly.

"I am drawing no conclusions," Merlin told her. "All I am saying is that the two of you need to have an open and honest discussion about what it is you want and what you're willing to do about it. It's the only way to get anywhere. Far too many troubles in these worlds are caused when people refuse to communicate with one another."

"Yeah." Ven scratched the back of his head. "I know that firsthand."

Merlin looked to him sympathetically. "On that topic, I want to extend my best wishes in the search for Terra. A broken communication can still be made right, if everyone is willing to listen. And I have a feeling as of recent events that all of you will."

"THANK YOU FOR INFORMING US OF THIS WONDERFUL DISCOVERY!" Papyrus told Merlin. "NOW WE CAN REST EASY KNOWING THIS IS A NATURAL THING, AND NOT A TERMINAL DISEASE LIKE STORK THOUGHT!"

"In my defense, you can never be too careful watching for early signs and symptoms," Stork pointed out. "Right now, I have an elbow rash that's pretty suspicious."

"I'm sure we can clear it up with a few Potions," Rapunzel told him. "We'll look into it when we get back to the castle. I…I need a little buffer time before I talk to Eugene anyway."

Merlin chuckled yet again. "You know, it's not my first time having this particular conversation. I won't disclose his name, of course, but there was a sorcerer I knew who rather idolized me, often at the cost of downplaying his own ability. It was much later in life than for any of you that he wrote to me – hmm, now was it two months ago or two weeks from now? – admitting the question was tearing him apart. I can only hope my answer put his mind at ease. Now, he was truly an example of how Dark and Light can cohabitate in the same person and create something unique and amazing…but that's another story entirely. Now, if that answers all of your questions, then I have a Crystal Master in the making who needs to see this room shortly."

"Yeah, I think we're good." Stork nodded. "Tell Piper to keep it up."

"I shall pass on the message," Merlin promised.

Rapunzel, Stork, Ven, and Papyrus left, giving final "Thank you"s as they departed. Merlin smiled, thinking again of the letter he either did write or would write to Cedric. One day, these worlds would eventually be set right in such a way that people would know sooner, when it mattered most.

...

The backup chorus had a more lax schedule; Hecate and Quentin (who was an assistant director whether or not anyone wanted it) demanded more strenuous work of the eight main cast members (one of whom was also Quentin). Currently, they were choreographing for the "La Vie Boheme" number, as that one was obviously going to be the most convoluted to figure out.

"I know what this needs," Quentin realized. "Lifts. All three couples. Starting with a twirl."

"Like this?" Velma and Demongo reached out to take one another's hand. Velma spun as gracefully as one could on eight legs, then came to a stop with her back to Demongo's chest. He grasped her waist and hoisted her high; she spread her arms with a beaming grin.

"EXACTLY like that," Quentin said. "We'll have you two do that, then Maureen lifting Joann and Collins lifting Angel."

The sound of Snatcher's throat clearing echoed through the auditorium stage. "I'm not certain that's…the best of ideas," he brought up, really hoping they could do the math from there.

"And why not?" Quentin asked. "It will be dramatic! It will be bombastic!"

"It should just, er, perhaps be the other way around?" Snatcher suggested.

"You're the more femme of the couple," Quentin said. "Outdated as the notion may be, there's an AESTHETIC to having you be the one lifted up."

"Yes. Well." Snatcher tried to figure out how to get the point across without drawing too much attention. "It just occurs to me that Mr. Lynns mightn't be…equipped for the task."

"What?" Garfield flinched. "Are you saying I'm not strong enough to lift you?"

"Well, you've got to consider there is a significant difference in stature and frame between – " Snatcher attempted.

"Okay, nonono." Garfield shook his head. "You're saying I can't handle it. I can HANDLE it. You wanna make this a challenge? Then let's go." He extended a hand.

"Mr. Lynns," Snatcher argued, "if you make a fool of me this way – "

"LET'S GO," Garfield urged.

When this inevitably ended in both of them crashing onto the floor hard, the only two audience members (plus emotional support animal) sitting in on the rehearsal, positioned halfway up the seating, couldn't help but snicker.

"How amusing they truly are," Emet-Selch remarked, with Hythlodaeus in his lap. "You know, I had heard they meant to outperform anything I had produced on the stages where I had actors tread."

"They're certainly…performing," Mythros teased.

There was a shuffle to Emet-Selch's open side. "I see we're having fun," a voice broke in.

Emet-Selch looked up at the woman who'd approached. "I don't believe we've met."

"I am the witch Xayide," Xayide said. "You I have heard are the immortal Emet-Selch."

"Indeed so," Emet-Selch affirmed. "And what manner of being do I address? Mortal or immortal?"

"I am ageless, with no beginning, despite an end," Xayide explained. "I am the embodiment of an archetype that came from incarnations before me and will live in incarnations after me."

Emet-Selch nodded. "Then you, I can respect. Had you wanted to take a seat?"

Xayide did so, smoothing out her skirt as she settled into the cushioned chair. "I had heard this was a brouhaha of sorts," she stated. "I needed to see how foolish they were making themselves."

"Quite, in fact," Emet-Selch remarked. "It's almost rather endearing. These mortals, they seem to have realized that in such a short lifespan, they've only so much time to act the role of the jester, and therefore do so constantly. I watched several of them pretend to perish at my command earlier, and it was far more amusing than I care to truly admit. That said, what perplexes me is why the immortals among them seem to be equally farcical."

At that point, Tsumugi was showing off how she could use her robotic agility to execute an endless series of perfect hands-free backflips, and Demongo, Velma, and Hecate were cheering her on in doing so.

"From what I have experienced, it seems to be what sustains them," Xayide explained. "Without the levity, they would give in under the weight of their short lifespan. How I tried to give up my own – and even succeeded – before they forced themselves into my periphery."

"Give up your life?" Emet-Selch sneered. "And why should you have wished such a thing, having the gift you have of an eternal soul and body?"

"When it seemed there was no more hope left," Xayide replied. "To live eternally without hope was no life I wanted."

"To live eternally is to have perpetual hope," Emet-Selch argued. "By its very nature. Whatever brings despair is only to cycle out in the years to come, bringing new opportunity as the slate is washed clean. Especially when the others around us perish, giving us chances anew. Of course, the ones who threaten to quash my hope are the two who cannot, in fact, die truly. Yet I do not see this as a reason to wish for the end."

"Who are these two?" Xayide asked.

"An enemy," Emet-Selch replied. "And the LAST person I shall ever bother to love."

"I have never bothered to love," Xayide added. "Not even in the way of the stories told. Should you carry on your path, I should think you would find it satisfying."

"It would be such a shame if our lord Emet-Selch ever did turn back on his word, wouldn't it?" Mythros jeered. "He would leave you and I as the only ones to forget such foolishness."

"Set yourself up not for the fall, Mythros," Emet-Selch sneered. "After all, it could very well be you who moves on from Waltz Cresswell, besmirching the name of those who have resolved no longer to bother."

"And I shall remain the only one whose heart is invincible to such things," Xayide said smugly. "I should like that honor."

"And I should like to know more about your world, and whatever origins you can claim," Emet-Selch told her. "It seems you have many stories to tell."

"My very existence is stories to tell," Xayide responded. "And it seems that you have many years' worth of misadventures to relate."

"Well, we do have all eternity to share the tales," Emet-Selch reminded her.

"Let us start simply by filling the time of this rehearsal," Xayide told him, "while the jesters carry on in the background."

Quentin had decided he wanted to see how tensile Velma's webbing was, and if it could serve as a cable to soar him across the stage while the others danced below. As it turned out, the strength was adequate, but he misjudged his trajectory and slammed into a wall, which required him to sit out with an ice pack while Hecate finally took her show back.

...

Once again, Rapunzel and Eugene sat on the former's bed, this time during the day. Rapunzel struggled to meet Eugene's gaze. She'd been the one to call this conference, but she wished it didn't have to be so.

"I…I found the answers to my questions today," she began.

"Well, that's great!" Eugene said with enthusiasm.

"No, it's – it's not that great," Rapunzel sighed. "I mean, it is, for me to know that this is…how I am…but I don't think this is going to end well."

"Rapunzel," Eugene said, "I promise that whatever you're going to tell me, it won't change that you're an amazing person."

"And that's why this is so hard," she sighed. "I…I just…I don't want to do what we were trying to do last night. Ever. It turns out I'm a kind of person who…doesn't feel that way about anyone. I don't – I don't want to take my clothes off, and I DON'T want to do what comes after. I just want the cute parts. The romantic parts. And I know that some people like me, they do…do those other things. But it should be because I want, to not because I feel I have to. And I…I'm really afraid to even consider doing it. It sounds more terrifying than anything else. I don't think I can give it to you. Not now, and maybe not ever. And…I know you've wanted this. If I can never give it to you…is that something we can even work through?"

He was silent for too long.

She flinched and turned away.

"Rapunzel – " Eugene said quickly. "I don't want it to be like that. I love you. You're my best friend! I care about you so much! Which is…why I don't want to lie to you. This is something I'd need to think about. Because honestly, yeah, it's kind of a big deal to me in a relationship. And…I want to just say it doesn't matter to me. But I also don't want to lead you on and make you think this won't be a big deal, only for it to go wrong later."

It took her almost no time at all to go from dry-eyed to sobbing. "I'm sorry," Rapunzel choked. "I didn't want to do this to you. I just wanted to fix it so I could – "

"Rapunzel, NO," Eugene told her. "This is something you worked hard to find the answer for, and you shouldn't need 'fixing.' It's…disappointing, I won't lie. But this isn't something you did wrong, and it isn't something I did wrong. It's just…complicated."

"Are we over?" Rapunzel asked in a whisper.

"I don't want to say that this soon," Eugene said. "But it is…something I'll have to think about. Not something I can answer right now."

She couldn't even see through the water now. "So what do we do?"

"We just…take it one day at a time," Eugene sighed, looking away. Hating to have to say this. He felt the villain, but lustful as it was, it wasn't something he could simply brush under the rug and say was fine. There was a part of him that did wish she hadn't come to this revelation, but a bigger part of him that knew she was his best friend no matter what (and hopefully still would be if worst came to worst). Which meant that he couldn't fault her, not when it was causing her this much pain.

(But that wasn't to say the situation wasn't causing him turmoil, too.)

"I…think we might need more space, just for now," Eugene ended up saying. "You're…obviously not feeling great, and I'm not really gonna be able to help with that."

Rapunzel just nodded wordlessly, choking on tears.

Eugene got up and left, softly shutting the door. It really wasn't fair. They'd hit it off so well, and yet this was the one roadblock that could shatter what they'd had.

One day at a time.

(Maybe some things weren't meant to be, unfair as it was to all parties involved.)

...

In private quarters, Ursula and Fish Mooney sat on a couch, pressed close to one another in a half-embrace.

"My dear," Ursula said as she gently stroked a hand down the side of Fish's cheek, "I must say I'm glad you could join our little company."

"Tell me more of how you feel about me," Fish replied smugly. Because she knew Ursula hadn't touched her unaware of the venom.

Which meant Ursula was honest as could be when she replied, "Why, you're simply gorgeous! Exquisite! Brilliant, bold, and with such a nasty streak!"

"I must say your reputation spoke of you before we met," Fish replied. "And even then, I thought you were a fine prize to chase. Up close and in person, I must say you're even better than advertised." She smirked. "Sexy, confident, and holding all the cards."

"It really was a fair wind that blew us together," Ursula said as she leaned in a little closer.

"Are you sure you didn't mean a favorable current?" Fish teased, leaning in even closer.

Their lips almost met when Flotsam and Jetsam burst into the room, saying as one, "Ursula!"

"WHAT is it?" Ursula raged, turning to acknowledge them as Fish coldly scowled at the eels.

"Trouble in the kingdom," Flotsam said.

"You will want to know about this before anyone else does," Jetsam added.

"As will your lover," Flotsam picked up.

"Then out with it!" Ursula snapped.

Two glowing eyes became a single sphere, projecting a scene from the Enchanted Dominion below the Forbidden Mountain.

Down in the midst of the city, where the people usually did their best to ignore the looming Forbidden Mountain and the evils contained within, Cinder Fall was raining hell. She soared through the air like a fallen angel of doom, hurling flames at homes and taverns and smithies. Half the city was on fire.

She let out a rough scream as a cathedral alit like the candles within. "That power was supposed to be MINE!" she declared. "This is a DISGRACE!"

The congregation burst from the cathedral, running in terror, and Cinder's index finger traced through the air to make a little flame for each person she saw in the crowd. Then they launched, targeting the trajectory of their intended recipients.

A sphere of cold wind suddenly surrounded Cinder, extinguishing her flames and any she tried to summon thereafter. Golden tendrils erupted from the ground below, wrapping about the windy sphere and dragging it straight down to the town square, where it cracked like an egg, spilling Cinder across the road. Her head smacked down just before a pair of sparkling high heels.

"Tsk, tsk," Fish Mooney taunted. "Aren't we a little too old to be throwing toddler tantrums?"

Cinder raised her head to snarl at her, noticing she was flanked by Ursula, Marluxia, and – most maddeningly – Gothel, meaning both other Maidens were here.

"I was supposed to be all four Maidens," Cinder seethed. "Salem promised it to me. But because of ONE failure, MY power now belongs to the two of YOU!"

Fish knelt, placing a hand under Cinder's chin to tilt her face up. "I see power means a lot to you," she observed.

"It's all I've ever wanted," Cinder growled. "Power to decide my own destiny. To become feared, to become strong."

"I knew a girl like you once," Fish told her. "Her name was Liza, and she was willing to do whatever it took for power. I ensured that. What I didn't expect was for her to give into her emotions in the final stretch – different emotions from the ones you're having, but it's the same principle. That was the end of Liza, and if you keep doing this without thinking, then it'll be the end of you."

"What do YOU know – "

"Shut up and listen to me," Fish hissed, the toxin seeping from her fingertips to Cinder's face. Cinder found herself slack-jawed, watching Fish intently with her one working eye. "Actually, answer this one question, in one word. Are you TRULY willing to do anything for power?"

"Yes," Cinder said with utmost confidence.

"Then you'll be willing to change course," Fish told her. "Surely you've realized that the four Maidens ain't the only power sources on the block anymore. There are infinite worlds' worth of ways to get new power, and BETTER power than us Maidens have."

"Ah…" Cinder still couldn't speak, but she realized when a door was opening.

"So here's the deal I have for you," Fish told her. "If my friends and I offer you something better than simply becoming all four Maidens at once, then will you be willing to let Gothel and I keep our powers without complaint? Answer in one word."

"Yes," Cinder said softly.

"You have to realize it's for your own good," Gothel said. "You keep making idiot moves like that and you'll end up, well, burned by your own flames. Fish and I are your elders, old enough to be your mothers! And you know what they say: Mother knows best." She sniffed. "From what I've seen just now, YOU certainly don't."

"You may speak at will now," Fish told Cinder.

Cinder scrambled to her feet. "What must I do?" she asked eagerly. "What do you HAVE for me?"

"This is where I come in." Ursula slithered to the front of the group. "After all, my whole lifestyle is helping poor unfortunate souls like yourself by giving them what it is they want, whether that's an entire transformation into something completely else or a treasure they've always desired!"

"It's also where I come in," Marluxia scoffed. "I'm the one with the method, after all." He flicked his hand, and there appeared in it a card, one whose back was patterned in flames, shining red that shimmered orange in the shifting light. "In Castle Oblivion, some of us became far too preoccupied with the scientific side of the cards. The memory aspect. But some of us saw what truly mattered. The magic aspect. The cards that held the power. While certain of us obsessed uselessly over using cards to preserve and modify memories outside the castle's boundaries, I made sure to figure out how to turn the deck into my trump cards. This, for example, is a card that will allow even the least magical to cast a basic Blizzard spell. The aesthetic belies it because I couldn't simply give you something blue without clashing horribly."

He flicked the card to Cinder, and she examined it. A blue snowflake with six points was on the face side. "How do I use it?"

Marluxia made a flicking motion with his hand. Cinder did the same, and suddenly, a blue aura lit up her other hand. She turned and hurled it at one of the buildings she'd set aflame, and part of it crusted over with ice.

Then the card dissolved. "NO!" Cinder cried. "Where is it? How do I get it back?"

"That was just a temporary model," Marluxia examined. "Meant to give you a taste. You haven't earned the rest yet. Take Ursula's deal and I'll give you the true deck."

"What I'm offering is a set of decks that can give you mastery over a variety of magic disciplines," Ursula told Cinder. "You won't need fire, of course. You have that one covered. But there's ice, lightning, gravity, even healing! Not to mention that the cards come in different strengths; a Blizzaga could put out the entire burning building! And if you combine them into Sleights, why, you could cast magic that even outperforms the Maidens!"

"In Castle Oblivion, these cards' effects could be countered by a different deck with higher values, or a wild-card zero," Marluxia went on. "But here, outside the castle, you only have to worry about it if anyone else has the same enchanted deck system, which is very unlikely. Here, it will work like any magic. The strongest wins."

"Then give me the decks," Cinder demanded.

"Oh, my dear, sweet child," Ursula cooed, "I can't give you something for nothing. It simply isn't my way. Not to mention that my magic requires a contract. The stronger cards simply couldn't activate for you without the power that a contract with me would feed into them. You'll not only need to sign, but deliver the appropriate payment."

"What are you asking me to pay?" Cinder asked, raising a brow.

"Fortunately," Ursula told her, "since we're on the same side, something with a little less fine print than my usual customers. What you'll owe me is a favor in return for each deck. One for ice, one for thunder…you get the gist. I'll decide what the favors are, of course, and when I ask them of you. Complete each one and get the reward. As I said, we are on the same side, so I won't be adding you to my garden if you refuse a favor. But it will mean the chain breaks. Until the favor is fulfilled, you can't simply move to the next one. That will mean the magic you've earned is all you get, and no more."

"So in other words," Cinder said, "I'm at your mercy."

"Yes and no," Ursula replied. "As I said, you can refuse at any time if you don't think it's worth the cost. You just won't get the rest of your reward."

"And we wouldn't ask anything horrible of you," Gothel said smugly. "Only what we know you can handle. Because you can handle anything you set your mind to…can't you?"

Cinder thought it over, but not for very long. "Very well," she said. "I'll sign your contract. But if I decide it's over, then it's over."

"Wonderful!" Ursula summoned a golden scroll and a fish-bone pen from nowhere, handing them to Cinder. Cinder skimmed the wording: it was much shorter than what Ursula would usually write, with the exact terms they'd discussed upfront. A good sign that she actually wanted to conduct this without an alternate agenda, no matter how suspicious Gothel might've been acting about it.

The name "Cinder Fall" was scrawled onto the bottom of the contract. The parchment rolled itself up, then vanished in golden smoke, along with the pen.

"Wonderful," Ursula said. "Now, for the first favor I ask, I want help rounding up a certain someone we've decided to track down."

"Marluxia, Gothel, and I compared notes from certain relevant events of our lives," Fish explained, "and we came to the conclusion that we shouldn't let this person slip away. For one, if she turns against us, we'll have problems. For another, she'd be a valuable asset."

"And for a third," Marluxia said, "I suppose I do consider her a friend."

"But where we're going," Fish went on, "it would be helpful to have a lot of…firepower."

"All right." Cinder nodded. "That sounds reasonable."

"Once we've found her," Ursula said, "with your help, of course, then you'll be granted your first element. Ice should be appropriate, given the nature of the errand."

Cinder nodded. "We leave immediately."

...

Lady Caine scowled as she sat in the front row of the auditorium, looking over a script while half paying attention to Mim doing a number that Lady Caine knew she could do better.

Well, okay, worse, because it was supposed to be the performance art piece that was written to be horrible on purpose to showcase Maureen's ineptitude, and Mim was doing a great job at making it awful but Lady Caine knew she could make it even funnier.

So the redhead just rolled her eyes, set down the script, and set about having a silent pity party.

Since Mim only needed so much of the stage to rehearse her number, various members of cast and crew were utilizing other parts to take care of other matters. Roman was up in the catwalks, testing the lighting. Which resulted in some very comical things, such as all of the lights suddenly going out except for one single spotlight, which lit up an empty part of the stage several feet to the left of Mim.

"WHAT is the meaning of this?" Mim barked.

"My bad! That was on me!" Roman fixed it, planting the spotlight on her. "Do continue."

Back in the wings, Tsumugi and Snatcher spread out several papers on a desk to plan costuming. "All right, Miss Shirogane," Snatcher said, "what've you brought to the table?"

"Here are set photos from the film, so we have the exact models," Tsumugi answered. "After all, a cosplayer focuses on detail! But the other thing is that when I designed outfits for my cast members on DanganRonpa, I gave them flair based on their assigned Ultimate talent. So I asked myself: if the cast of RENT were ultimates, what would their titles be? Well, Maureen is obviously the Ultimate Activist, so I have this mockup here of a costume I'd design for a student with that title. It would have a skirt made of a generic, bipartisan protest sign. And since Roger is the Ultimate Drummer, I'd give him a leather vest with the sleeves torn off, since that is the cliché everyone imagines."

"Very nice," Snatcher said as he looked over Tsumugi's images. "Now, here I've got reference images from stage versions past, but also references from La Boheme, which, as one SHOULD know, is the ORIGINAL medium in which the 'RENT' story occurs."

"Original?" Tsumugi repeated. "Wasn't that opera based on an anthology novel that would technically be considered the original?"

"Splitting hairs and all that," Snatcher said quickly so he wouldn't have to admit she was right. "My thought was to translate the more classic designs of La Boheme, the certainly most original context, into a more modern aesthetic for our retelling. For instance, this ruffle for Miss Musetta can most certainly make it onto Miss Johnson's ensemble."

"Now all we have to do is combine all of our ideas and add sequins and glitter to make the ultimate RENT costuming!" Tsumugi clapped her hands excitedly.

A loud "OOPS!" drew their attention to where Roman had lit up the stage in flickering rave lights of all colors, obscuring Mim almost entirely.

"I didn't think he was this incompetent," Tsumugi remarked.

Snatcher leaned in close to whisper to her conspiratorially: "Wait for it."

Peepers paced back and forth in front of Garfield; "Really, a lot of your problem isn't so much in coordination as the fact that you don't stick to predetermined choreography, and you overblow every move. If you pay STRICT attention to me, I can help you improve your dancing exponentially."

Garfield nodded. "Got it."

"Now, pay attention." Peepers stood out front of Garfield, looking forward into the audience. "Copy my every move. And no improv." He started to move his feet slowly. "One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!"

Garfield followed the pattern. Perfectly, at first. Then a little too hard in his movements, stamping a bit too loudly. Then, getting bored, starting to swing his arms in a way that felt…well, not natural, but tempting.

"I SAW that," Peepers barked.

An entire light came detached from the upper reaches of the catwalks, narrowly missing Mim by inches as it crashed to the stage below. "Wow, it is just NOT my day!" Roman yelled down.

Quentin and Montana tested the displays of several holo-cubes that Quentin had preloaded with relevant settings. "Jackson," Quentin urged, "where do you think the most romantic locale in New York City is?"

"Always liked the looks of the Shakespeare Garden, to be honest," Montana replied. "But – "

There was a shimmer, and then a fragment of said garden stretched out before them on one-third of the stage.

"That ain't in the East Village," Montana groaned. "I know you gotta make this dramatic, but we gotta stick to the script some."

"Oh, I know," Quentin said slyly. "This isn't for Roger and Mimi. This is for us."

Montana cursed himself out mentally for falling for it and falling harder for Quentin as he was kissed dramatically in the Shakespeare Garden.

There was another blackout, a spotlight in the wrong place, and then another crash of a light to the stage, all at once. Mim teleported herself up to the catwalks, shaking a fist at Roman; "DON'T THINK I DON'T SEE WHAT YOU'RE DOING!"

"Ehhhh?" Roman replied innocently. "I'm just fucking up a lot. Which is, to be fair, part and parcel of running the lights."

"You're trying to get me to see how much more mischief I can cause if I switch from cast to lighting crew!" Mim accused. "Well, it's working! HECATE! I WANT A CASTING CHANGE! REMOVE ME AND PUT ME ON TECHNICAL CREW!"

Hecate flinched; she, Velma, and Demongo had been making rounds and checking in on everyone (as well as discussing the recording session for the backup music), and they certainly hadn't expected that. Hecate turned to look at Lady Caine, who was gobsmacked in the front row, eyes and mouth wide open.

"I guess you're back in as Maureen," Hecate said with a shrug.

With a cry of "ONLY THING TO DO IS JUMP OVER THE MOON!", Lady Caine leapt up from her seat, dashing onstage.

After yelling "YOU'RE WELCOME, SKULLS!", Roman mysteriously didn't manage to make a single lighting mistake afterward. The same couldn't be said of Mim.

...

Fish had insisted upon one more change for Cinder before the two of them set out with Ursula, Marluxia, and Gothel to their destination. That being a change of clothing. A short bodysuit of black, with a half-cape that draped over one fully-gloved arm while the other hand only a wristlet. Gold accents, crossed belts. Thigh-high boots with tall heels. And a proper eyepatch at long last.

It would have been a little chilly to wear to the unpopulated wastelands of Solitas, but as the Fall Maiden, master of fire, Cinder didn't have to worry about that one bit.

It was Gothel who was complaining of the chill as the five crossed the threshold of the solitary bastion that was situated in the furthest reaches of the snowy wasteland. "Did she have to build it all the way out here," she seethed through gritted teeth, rubbing her arms, "and did it have to be out of ICE?"

"Hmph," Marluxia scoffed. "I think you just want to complain."

The foyer of the ice fortress was tall, Gothic, blue. Intimidating. The door across the way was barred by a web of overgrown icicles that branched like spider webbing.

"You're up, angelfish," Ursula told Cinder.

"I could shorten the journey by melting the entire building, you know," Cinder suggested.

"That would be a good way to make a permanent enemy," Fish told her. "If you'd rather do that than earn your deck, then be my guest."

Cinder gritted her teeth, marched on, and pressed a hand to the webbing, letting out just enough heat to burn through the blockage of the door. They proceeded through to the next room, where a massive pillar of ice extended up from the center.

"You know what to do," Marluxia told Cinder.

She blasted off, circling the pole, casting a ring of flame around it. In the direction she flew, the pole rotated, and so did an inner layer of the wall, covering the entry they'd come through and revealing an alternate exit.

"I don't know what impresses me more," Fish admitted. "Her security system or her interior design. This puts the Iceberg Lounge to shame."

"The little Penguin could take a few pointers, eh?" Ursula chuckled.

"I, for one, have to wonder if she did this to spite me," Marluxia scoffed. "She has a hideout in Mistral as well, and a way of making a living by peeling earnings off her victims as the Blackshrine Ripper. And yet she chose ice. Knowing what it would make me think of."

"You know," Gothel told him, "it's the way you keep harping on how superior you are to him that makes people think you have a crush on him."

Marluxia shook his head. "Too frigid in more ways than one. And I will say at the very least such rumors aren't half the scandal that some people are saying about the old man from La Cité des Cloches."

"Wha – " Gothel flinched. "As though I would give my time to a decrepit pervert! I've never even been to the city of – whatever it is you just said!"

"You seemed to have given your 'time' to plenty worse men around Corona," Marluxia taunted.

"You're just trying to get under my skin, aren't you?" Gothel realized.

"No," Marluxia clarified. "I'm succeeding."

The expedition took them through a labyrinth of icy halls and walls, with rooms that sparkled and rooms filled with shadow. Cinder burned a path through many an obstacle, careful to keep the building's foundation intact. At the topmost floor, the path occasionally became reduced to an icy railing that had to be slid across, bordered by delicate chains of ice. The longest of these routes took the party to the largest arched doorway yet. Beyond, one could see that unlike the rest of the building, it was arranged more casually, with furniture spread around smaller chambers.

"We're here," Marluxia announced, striding forth.

Gothel put a hand on Cinder's shoulder; "You did so well, my little flame. We really couldn't have gotten this far without you."

Even though Cinder knew it was the same sort of lies and rhetoric used on Rapunzel (or was it?), she couldn't help but feel a little warm. She wrote it off as her powers overclocking to compensate for the climate. "I know you couldn't have," she said as she stalked forward, her heels' clicking amplified by the ice.

It was definitely a residential apartment beyond the arch, with grandiose furniture and a small stairway that led to an upper tier. "Oh, DEAR," Ursula said loudly. "After we came all this way, she isn't even here to greet us? What an ungracious host."

There was a shriek of "WHAT?" from upstairs. A pair of boots hurried down the steps of ice; "Didn't you understand that everything you saw up until now was to keep you OUT? Or do I have to teach you that lesson in a way that will STICK?"

When the woman in the blue jacket and black skirt stopped at the bottom of the stairway, drawing back a fistful of throwing knives, she was prevented from launching them only at the last possible second when she spotted Marluxia.

"Hello, Larxene," Marluxia greeted. "It's good to see you haven't changed. Unless you go by 'Elenar' here."

She dismissed the knives in a crackle of electricity. "Well, well," Larxene replied, folding her arms and leaning back. "This is a reunion that's been a long time coming. And where had you been hiding all this time?"

"The Kingdom of Corona," Marluxia replied. "While you shut yourself away outside the borders of Atlas. I didn't exactly see you rushing to reunite with me either."

"Well, you paid for taking your time," Larxene scoffed. "Why do you think it was ice all the way up? Or did you just think I was leaning into the 'Pre-Winter Maiden' aspect?"

"She's a Maiden?" Cinder gasped.

"You know, I'm standing right here," Larxene reminded her. "And, well, yes and no. I was the Winter Maiden, but then after a little accident, either my heart-deprived body only kept a fraction of the power…or it just manifested the latent genetics of a boring old man."

"Emet-Selch Ascian?" Fish identified. "Because he happens to be a nuisance of ours at the moment. If there's bad blood here, then it's more than welcome."

"You want to take my gramps down a peg?" Larxene realized. She gave a laugh; "Well, now you're speaking my language! Who are you, anyway? Wait…I remember YOU!" She pointed to Ursula. "You were one of those Maleficent cult members who showed up in Sora's memories!"

"Honey," Ursula corrected, "one of us was in a cult, and it wasn't me."

"Hmm…true," Larxene realized.

"As it turns out," Marluxia said, "working for Maleficent should have been our goal from the very start. She is a far more tolerable – if less forgiving – superior than Xemnas."

"Always wondered about that," Larxene admitted. "So you're inviting me to join the Maleficent Brigade?"

"Your power would be an asset we'd be fools to pass up," Fish stated with a grin. "And your personality suggests you'd be entertaining at parties."

"So whaddaya say, little miss electric-eel?" Ursula cajoled. "Wanna join the winning side? We have not one, not two, but THREE Maidens on our side."

"Three?" Larxene scoffed. "That's a bold claim. Are we playing cards? I'd like to call your bluff."

After exchanging three smirks, Fish surrounded herself with whipping winter winds, Cinder lit on fire, and Gothel stood in a curling garden of golden vines.

"So you ARE the real deal!" Larxene cackled. "Well, I just can't pass that up. Especially since…well, Marluxia, you know I always liked them tall and fiery."

"Wait." Cinder's flames fizzled out. "What?"

"Don't worry about it," Larxene told her with a wink. "We can talk more back at base. …Also, PUH-LEASE tell me the base is any color but white."

"If you think we went for the Oblivion look," Ursula said, "then you really haven't been paying attention. I'm sure you saw our lair style in the memories you put the Key-brat through."

"Oh, true!" Larxene lit up. "All right, you have me sold. I'm in. I can't guarantee I won't make an exit strategy in case things get hairy, though."

"Don't even worry about it," Gothel said. "We all have backup plans."

"And every one of us knows how to incapacitate the others," Ursula affirmed. "In case things should ever go wrong."

"Which is why we put most of our efforts into assuring things don't go wrong," Fish stated sternly.

"Let's get out of here," Larxene said, her own high blue boots clacking on the ice as she strode to the door of her living quarters. "I was getting a little sick of staring at all the ice, anyway. The cold was starting to bother me."

She led the way, and Marluxia, Gothel, and Fish followed. Cinder stared after Larxene, eye wide and a red tint across her face.

"You know," Ursula remarked, "I was going to ask if she'd been too forward…and then I noticed you seem to love to watch her leaving the room. She does have a way with…body language, doesn't she?"

Cinder bristled. "We had a deal. I brought you to her. Now give me what's mine."

"But of course!" Ursula pulled from thin air a deck of cards, shimmering red-orange like the temporary paper Marluxia had conjured earlier. "He already prepared this to hand off to me, and now, as per our agreement, I bequeath them to their rightful owner."

Cinder took the cards in her hands, shuffling through them. They were marked with number values to indicate the strength of the spell. She combined three of the highest-marked Blizzagas, then flicked.

She was imbued with a cold power, one that finally reminded her she was inside a building made of ice in frozen Solitas. Cinder released it, and at her behest, a great cluster of icy stalagmites sprouted up from the center of what had been Larxene's living room, sharp enough to kill on contact. The cards remained tactile in her hand, not fading away the way the demonstration had.

"I could get used to this," Cinder said as she pocketed the deck.

...

The auditorium stage had been cleared off. Hecate, Velma, Demongo, Quentin, Montana, Garfield, Snatcher, Roman, Mim, Tsumugi, and Peepers sat in the front row so they could give the in-house band space to work while recording the background music for the songs.

(They could've just hunted down recordings, but this was the WHAM ARMY. Recordings were for karaoke. Musicals demanded more signature flair.)

Aghoul had mastered the electric guitar, heading up most of the more powerful numbers. Scaramouche filled in harmonizations with his flute, improvising scales and solos. Rémington Smisse kept a beat going on a drum set while Hannibal Roy Bean, having given himself human hands, played the sad songs with great soul on a compact wooden piano.

"I'm doing three-quarters of the band, you know," Mim said between numbers.

Roman put up a fist for her to bump; "Respect."

"Sooooo this is weird," Garfield commented. "I wouldn't've pegged Rémy as a drums type. But I DEFINITELY wouldn't have guessed the Bean and piano."

"I had to learn the drums for a con once," Rémington explained. "Easiest way to earn entry to a high-class concert hall. The haul I picked up pickpocketing the patrons made the hours of lessons worth it."

"And I had to spend a whole decade masquerading as a human pee-yan-ist to access a demonic summon station in the basement of a ritzy hotel," Hannibal explained.

"You know it's pronounced 'pianist,' right?" Scaramouche corrected. "'Cause with that shapeshiftin' ability, you're passin' up a mondo opportunity to tell everybody you're literally a ten-inch pianist."

That got Demongo shrieking with giggles so hard that he almost fell off his chair.

"Erm…do you even have…?" Tsumugi looked back and forth between Scaramouche and Demongo. "See, I never told Kokichi because the gag was funny, but no, Keebo didn't, and I don't have anything equivalent either."

"Rude!" Demongo scoffed. "Such a prying question!"

"But to answer, no," Scaramouche said. "That said, I got loads of other parts that come in real handy when trying to make a demon get screamin'." He fired off a wink while waggling his fingers for demonstration, and Demongo blushed with a sappy grin.

A couple more numbers recorded, and Scaramouche called, "Okay, everybody, take five, or maybe six if you're feelin' it. This is a real throwback to the Aku Hall concerts I used to headline, y'know."

"You performed at Aku Hall?" Demongo questioned. "I would have liked to see such a performance."

"Well, I do get better with every encore, babe," Scaramouche said. "But man, did the other bots not know the classics. So I threw 'em a bone and played Bohemian Rhapsody at the end of every set. For the pun, y'know. Well, either that or I literally play a fandango, but that'd've flown over their heads. Besides, we all got it down that it's the most rockin' of roll anyway. Never hated playin' it."

"Gotta agree," Roman said. "It is, in all seriousness, the objective best song of the time period."

"I'm not sure," Tsumugi argued. "I've listened to Queen's greatest hits over and over again – mostly because I was in a Cromartie High School phase – and I think Don't Stop Me Now is much better, especially for overlaying on murder montages."

"Well, I'd normally be more inclined to give regards to The Show Must Go On," Snatcher added, "but I'd be remiss to not admit that Bohemian Rhapsody is more of a crowd-pleaser, and not completely unfoundededly so, either."

"I'm almost sure Freddie's a siren," Mim remarked.

"We've all suspected," Hecate agreed. "No one can prove it."

"Wait, wait, WAIT," Lady Caine broke in. "How do you all know this same song? We all came from different worlds, right?"

"Well, obviously, Bohemian Rhapsody is such a work of art that it transcends worldly borders," Quentin said condescendingly. "EVERYONE knows Bohemian Rhapsody."

"Well, I don't," Lady Caine informed the group.

This caused a minor explosion.

"WHAAAAAA – "

"ARE YOU KIDDING?"

"BURN THE PHILISTINE!"

"HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW THAT?"

"Is this REALLY such a big deal?" Lady Caine shouted as she stood. "How good of a song can I possibly be missing?"

"How good of a song can you be missing?" Scaramouche repeated. "HOW GOOD OF A SONG CAN YOU BE MISSING?"

"Listen," Peepers told her. "Even I know and love this song. And that's saying something. Maybe this cultural knowledge missed your world, but you really should know it eventually. I mean, most people snap to attention the MINUTE they hear those iconic opening chords." He shifted to sing those very chords; "Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?"

Snatcher joined him, unbidden, to continue: "Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality!"

Peepers had intended to end the demonstration there, but then Scaramouche had started to play the accompanying instrumental on the flute, and Snatcher sure wasn't stopping, so they went on: "Open your eyes; look up to the skies and seeeeee!"

Snatcher suddenly stood, taking the lead; "I'm just a poor boy! I need no sympathy!"

By this time, Garfield and Tsumugi were in on it; "Because I'm easy come, easy go! Little high, little low!"

Snatcher made his way onto the stage, twirling dramatically; "Any way the wind blows!" And Peepers, Tsumugi, and Garfield backed him up; "Doesn't really matter to meeeeeee!"

Then Snatcher hit a low "Toooo meeee," and Hannibal brought in the piano going strong, and Lady Caine barely had time to yell "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY – "

"Mamaaaaaa," Snatcher crooned, hamming up the performance with dramatic gestures. "Just killed a man. Put a gun against his head; pulled my trigger, now he's dead. Mamaaaaaa, life had just begun! But now I've gone and throw it all away!"

"YEAH!" Roman cheered on. "HIT IT, SWEETHEART!"

"No," Mim encouraged, "HIT IT, REMY!"

Rémington entered with the drums, a wide grin on his face as he did so.

"MAMAAAAAA!" Snatcher was now throwing in even more twirls. "OOOOHHHH! DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE YOU CRY! IF I'M NOT BACK AGAIN THIS TIME TOMORROW, CARRY ON, CARRY ON! As if nothing really matters…"

Peepers, Garfield, and Tsumugi hustled onto the stage as Hannibal and Scaramouche played all the more soulfully to head into the second verse. They took their places behind Snatcher, swaying from side to side, as he continued; "Too late! My time has come! Sends shivers down my spine; body's aching all the time! Goodbye, everybody, I've got to go! Got to leave you all behind and face the truth!"

The three backup singers chimed in with harmonic vocalizations, ascending as Snatcher acted as forlorn as possible, putting on puppy eyes for the audience. "MAMAAAAAA, OOOOOH! I don't wanna die; sometimes wish I'd never been born at all!"

As Aghoul struck the guitar chords that followed, Snatcher put his hand out to the audience. Roman knew exactly what to do, leaping up and taking it, and the two of them jokingly waltzed about the stage.

"Well, I mean…" Lady Caine shrugged. "It's a nice ballad, but I don't see what the – "

The tone of the song abruptly changed, with Hannibal punching sharp, swift chords. Demongo, not wanting to miss what was coming, flitted up onstage so he could point at his lover; "I see a little silhouette of a man! SCARAMOUCHE, SCARAMOUCHE, WILL YOU DO THE FANDANGO!"

And now Demongo and Scaramouche were dancing as well – though not touching; Scaramouche still needed to be on that flute – as Tsumugi and Garfield were jumping up and down, yelling, "THUNDERBOLTS AND LIGHTNING! VERY VERY FRIGHTENING, ME!"

"GALILEO!" Mim yelled from the audience, and by now, Lady Caine was incredibly confused.

"GALILEO!" Peepers yelled back at her.

"GALILEO!" Mim called back.

To which Peepers responded, of course, with another "GALILEO!"

Together, they chorused, "GALILEO FIGARO!"

Velma now couldn't be left out; she'd webbed up to the catwalk so she could descend dramatically down from the stage on a thread of silk, using her highest siren voice to trill "MAGNIFICO-OH-OH-OH!"

"I'm just a poor boy!" Snatcher sang melodramatically. "Nobody loves me!"

Hecate had just joined in so that she could join the others in pointing at him and yelling, "HE'S JUST A POOR BOY FROM A POOR FAMILY! SPARE HIM HIS LIFE FROM THIS MONSTROSITY!"

"Easy come, easy go!" Snatcher pleaded. "Will you let me go!"

To which Garfield sang "Bismillah" and Peepers a high-pitched "NO!" and Mim a threatening "We will not let you go" and Demongo a practically ear-splitting "LET ME GOOOOO!" and the four of them seemed to argue by using these phrases for several rounds, speeding up more and more until Velma snuck up with a "Never, never, never, never let me GO-OH-OH-OH-OH!"

Everyone present and not too distracted by an instrument went in unison for a harsh, "NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!"

They let Snatcher take the next "Oh, mamma mia, mamma mia!" before the chorus returned for "MAMMA MIA, LET ME GO! BEELZEBUB HAS A DEVIL PUT ASIDE FOR ME, FOR MEEEEE – "

And providing the highest note yet, one Quentin Beck skidded out to the front of the crowd on his knees, trilling out "FOR MEEEEEEEEE!" like his life depended on it.

Montana had followed him onstage, and when Aghoul, Scaramouche, and Rémington took over the instrumental bridge with all their heart and soul, Montana pulled Quentin up to his feet in order to whirl him around the stage. And the rest of the company went wild. Hecate, Velma, and Mim competed to see who could move the most seductively around Aghoul, threatening to distract him from his solo. Scaramouche and Demongo executed complex footwork, moving around one another without the flute ever breaking. Snatcher and Roman were doing their best to steal the spotlight, spinning one another and moving in symmetrical synchrony. Peepers was grooving all on his own, an index finger raised in the air and shaking to the beat as his eye was shut in bliss. Because Hannibal had a break from the piano, he'd opted to join in the dancing, and he, Tsumugi, and Garfield formed a most unchoreographed mosh pit. Hecate threw bright flashes of magic into the air as Velma swung round and round on her thread above everyone else.

Roman twirled Snatcher to center stage, where Snatcher picked up the vocals; "SO YOU THINK YOU CAN STONE ME AND SPIT IN MY EYE!"

Quentin, not to be outdone, nodded at Montana, who spun him so that he went past Snatcher to upstage him; "SO YOU THINK YOU CAN LOVE ME AND LEAVE ME TO DI-I-IE!"

Quentin and Snatcher, glaring at one another, aggressively harmonized; "OHHHH, BABY! CAN'T DO THIS TO ME BABY! JUST GOT TO GET OUT, JUST GOT TO GET RIGHT OUT OF HERE!"

There couldn't really be a definitive winner called between the two of them, so as the instrumental took over once more, they settled into an impromptu dance-off.

Tsumugi and Garfield slingshotted Hannibal back into his seat just in time for the piano to re-enter, and then the whole company (Roman included, and thankfully he was drowned out) joined together for "OOOOH-OOOOH-OOH!" They swayed from side to side in sync; "OOH YEAH! OOH YEAH! OO-OOOOOO!"

Aghoul played in the last phase. The other instruments calmed down considerably: a soft flute, a gentle piano, the softest of drum beats.

"Nothing really matters," Snatcher and Quentin sang together. "Anyone can see. Nothing really matters…nothing really matters, to meeeeee!"

Hannibal played the song out, Aghoul gave a final guitar riff, and Snatcher and Quentin softly sang the last "Any way the wind blows!"

Without warning, Mim, who had conjured a gigantic cymbal and lain in wait, gave that cymbal a sonorous smack, and the sonorous boom caused everyone to flinch and cry out.

After they'd all recovered, Peepers said, "So, yes, that's basically Bohemian Rhapsody."

Lady Caine could only blink in silence at first. Then she admitted, "Okay, yes, I see what you see in the song. That was pretty good."

...

Hugo Strange's new laboratory was situated behind a false wall in the Twilight Town underground tunnels; one had to know exactly which combination of bricks to press in order to access the entry. And if one did know it, they would be rewarded with a massive expanse of tubes of bubbling fluid, cots surrounded by sharp tools, and sanitary sinks.

The doctor himself always wore two distinct accessories: a set of rose-colored glasses and a smug smile that indicated he was planning something you didn't know about but would wish you had.

The wall moved aside. Fish, Cinder, Gothel, Ursula, Marluxia, and Larxene entered together. "Hugo," Fish greeted.

"Fish!" Hugo replied in a deep, syrupy voice. "How good to see you. It's not easy running your kingdom while you're off the throne."

"You can stick that lie where it doesn't shine," Fish snorted. "You loved having the power while I was away on business. But enough about that. I want a report on my new city."

"Well, there's good news and there's bad news," Hugo told her.

"Why don't we start with the good news?" Fish asked.

"We've got Cherry and Floyd back under our control," Hugo said, "as well as the Disciplinary Committee as a whole. Fuujin, Raijin, Almasy. All three of whom I think could use some…augmentations to improve their performance."

"Hugo," Fish said coldly, "what do you mean BACK under our control?"

"That would be the bad news," Hugo told her. "Someone's attempting to move in on your territory. The movement seems to be spearheaded by an impetuous smooth talker who goes by 'Tony Dracon.' But after some digging, I've found that he's only a branch of our true foe: the WHAM ARMY, who want to stake a claim here."

"The WHAM ARMY?" Larxene spat. "Isn't that the group Gramps joined up with? Ugh! So over them already!"

"To say I'm displeased would be putting it mildly." Fish scowled.

"Well, you know what we should do about it," Ursula suggested. "Remind them who the REAL queens are here."

"Funny you should say that," Hugo brought up. "I may have a little…warning shot prepared. An idea that would, granted, allow me to flex my muscles in my field, but also indicate just who they've decided to toy with. Ah, and you've brought the botanist, too. That's perfect."

"I'm intrigued as to how I fit into this," Marluxia admitted. "Are you wanting us to overgrow the WHAM ARMY hub into a tangle of thorns, or something actually threatening?"

"Oh, there's a plant I would like you to grow," Hugo said smugly. "But I think you'll find it far more effective than a patch of weeds."